Caitlyn's Prize

Caitlyn hadn’t said one word. She didn’t need to. Brenda Sue was a one-woman show, no participation required. How did Judd put up with that airhead? But he was a man and probably enjoyed looking at her cleavage. Caitlyn didn’t want to think about what else might be between them.

She took a seat in a burgundy leather wingback chair facing the enormous mahogany desk. Vibrant polished wood surrounded her. A man’s room, she thought. There were no family photos, just framed pictures of prize Brahman bulls and thoroughbred horses, along with several bull and horse sculptures. A magnificent one sat on his desk, a smaller version of the one in the fountain. The stallion stood on his hind legs, his mane flowing in the wind as his front feet pawed the air.

If her nerves weren’t hog-tied into knots, she’d take a closer look. Right now she had to focus on the next few minutes. She crossed her legs and tried to relax. It was only a meeting.

After fourteen years.

The knots grew tighter.

She touched her hair in a nervous gesture. After brushing it until her arms ached, she couldn’t decide whether to wear it up or down. Judd had liked it loose and flowing, so she’d weaved it into a French braid, as usual. It hung down her back and conveniently kept her hair out of her face.

She recrossed her legs and stared in horror at the horse crap on her boots. Damn. Damn. Damn! But when you ran a working ranch it was hard not to step in it every now and then.

Tissues in a brass holder on the desk caught her attention. Just what she needed. As she started to rise, the door opened and Judd strolled in with Frank Gaston, her father’s attorney. Her butt hit the leather with a swooshing sound, but Judd didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t even look at her, though the lawyer nodded in her direction.

Judd sank into his chair, placing a folder on the desk in front of him. He was a big man with an even bigger presence. His hair was dark brown, his eyes darker. She’d once called them “midnight magic.” Their color rivaled the darkest night, and magic was what she’d felt when he’d looked at her.

Oh, God! She’d been so naive.

The leather protested as she shifted uncomfortably. Judd had changed very little over the years. He’d been at her father’s funeral, but had never gotten within twenty feet of her. She’d seen him every now and then when she was at the general store or the gas station in High Cotton, but he’d always ignored her.

As he did now.

She’d never been this close before, though, breathing the same air, occupying the same space. There were gray strands at his temples, but they only added to his appeal. A white shirt stretched across his shoulders. Had they always been that wide?

Reality check. Something serious was going on and it required her undivided attention. What was Frank doing here?

As she watched, Judd opened the folder and laid a document on the desk in front of her.

“Two months before your father died, he sold me High Five’s oil and gas royalties.”

Everything in the room seemed to sway. Cait’s fingers pressed into the leather and she felt its texture, its softness, its support, yet it felt unreal. The expression on Judd’s face, though, was as real as it got.

Something was stuck in her throat. “Excuse me?” she managed to ask.

“Are you hard of hearing?” He looked at her then, his dark eyes nailing her like barbed wire to a post, hard, sure and without mercy.

“Of course not.” She wouldn’t let him get to her. She sprang to her feet, wanting answers. “I don’t believe it. My father wouldn’t do that to us.”

“It’s true, Caitlyn. I’m sorry,” Frank said, a touch of sadness in his voice.

Judd poked the document with one finger. “Read it. The fifteenth will be your last check.”

Grabbing the document, she sat down to see this debacle with her own eyes. She had to. Her knees were shaking. As she read, the shaking spread to her whole body. It was true. Her father’s bold signature leaped out at her, sealing her fate and the fate of High Five.

How could he?

Judd Calhoun had found his revenge.

She was lost somewhere between feeling like a nineteen-year-old girl with her head in the clouds and a woman of thirty-three with her feet planted firmly on the ground. Shaky ground. What happened next? The adult Caitlyn should know, but she didn’t.

Judd did, and she was very aware of that as she heard his strong, confident voice. “Dane worried about the welfare of his daughters and his mother.”

“So he sold everything that was keeping us solvent. Why?” She fired the question at him with all the anger she was feeling.

“Gambling debts. He didn’t want those people coming after you or your grandmother.”

“So he leaves us with nothing?”

“You have the ranch.”

She stood on her less-than-stable legs, but she would not show one sign of weakness to this man. He had somehow finagled her father into doing this. That was the only explanation.

Judd pulled another paper from the folder. “There was nothing he could do about the gambling debts but pay them. He felt, though, that he should made arrangements for you, your sisters and your grandmother. I agreed to honor them as best as I could.”

That was her father. He was of the older generation and believed a woman had to be taken care of. That her place was in the home, kitchen or bed. Daughters were pampered and spoiled and did what they were told, like marrying a man of their father’s choosing.

Caitlyn had lived with that mindset all her life. She had defied it once, to her regret.

Pushing those thoughts away, she concentrated on what Judd had said. Agreed to what?

“What are you talking about?”

“With his enormous debt, Dane had very few options, and he asked for my help.” The rancher paused and picked up a gold pen, twirling it between his fingers. “Dane was also very aware of your stubborn, independent streak.”

She stiffened. “So?” As if she wasn’t reminded of it every freakin’ day of her life.

“Here’s Dane’s deal….” His dark eyes swept over her. “If the ranch is not making a profit within six months, you will sell High Five to me at a fair market price.”

“What!” His words hit her in the chest like a shot of her dad’s Tennessee whiskey.

“Still have that hearing problem?”

She ignored the sarcastic remark. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s true,” the lawyer interjected.

“Shut up, Frank.” She pointed a finger at him. “What are you doing here? You’re the Belles’ attorney. Shouldn’t you be on my side?”

“Caitlyn…”

Ignoring her outburst, Judd read from the paper in front of him. “‘I’m giving Caitlyn the option to operate High Five or sell. This decision is hers, not Madison’s nor Skylar’s. It is my wish, though, that she consult with her sisters. To die with a clear conscience, I have to give Caitlyn a chance. But if the ranch continues to decline six months after my death, then High Five ranch and all its entities will be sold to Judd Calhoun. Dorothea Belle will continue to live on the property as long as she lives.’”

Caitlyn was speechless, completely speechless. Her father, in his antiquated thinking, had given Judd a golden opportunity to exact his revenge. But she would not give in so easily. She would not fail.

“I…I think I’ll go and let you two sort this out.” The attorney glanced at her. “If you need anything, Caitlyn, just call.”

“Yeah, right.”